My Brother King
by Amledo
Summary: Logan takes some time to contemplate just what brought them to this point. Logan/Prince slash, don't like don't read. Rated T for content and pairing.


(A/N: My second bit of Fable 3 fanfiction. I had too much fun writing the first I guess. And though I really should be paying attention to some of my other fics I really wanted to write this one. Much fluffier and less depressing than the last. It is Logan/Prince so gay incest is the order of the day. Try not to take offense because I have warned you and I won't pay attention to the flames. I don't own Fable; the guys at Lionhead are pretty stodgy with it after all. On with the show!)

My Brother King

Logan stirred, but did not open his eyes. He relished the calm peace of the morning, the comfort afforded to him by the bed and the body that had joined him in it. Strong arms were wrapped around him and though they were softened by the relaxation of sleep, he could feel their power. Warmth flooded through him when he returned the sleepy embrace. Even after two years, he still couldn't believe that he deserved the love and adoration of the man that nightly slept beside him. He had fully expected to die when the rebellion came, no man's love able to withstand a tyrant King for very long; strangely, he had lived. And when the Crawler came, bringing its darkness into the very city that he had so recently seen restored, he was prepared to die in defense of the one man that could stop it all; still he had lived. But with the Crawler's defeat, everything changed.

At that point it had been five years since Logan's mind had known peace, always with such evil whispered in the back of his thoughts. When it was gone, his heart and mind lightened considerably. He had once again become the man that had been capable of ruling Albion justly, as his father had so many years before. But the title of King was no longer his burden to bear, it belonged to his beloved brother and Logan was determined to make sure that such a mantle did not crush the man he had given it to. He had taken a place as an advisor and sounding board for his brother, helping when he could and doing his best not to lead a decision in any which direction, that was no longer his liberty.

After a couple months though, the course of helping his brother had changed, imperceptible at first except to Logan. It was in subtle glances and smiles, in a hand on the shoulder that lingered for too long. He found change in a man that was publicly so strong crying in his arms when beset by nightmares left over from a war that shouldn't have needed to be fought. Logan was privy to it all, and remained as he had resolved to be, a statue beside the King, strong enough to support him when he fell but impassive and incapable of influence. The King did not long allow him to remain in that stead.

Small, but visible, a smile tugged at Logan's lips as he remembered a dinner hosted by his brother. Reaver had brought some of his best liquor with the intention of loosening up the minds of Lord, Lady and King alike so that his company could expand. After all, he could do nothing without the King's permission and it was no longer Logan's place to tell the accursed man to do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't have to see it. In a way Reaver's plan succeeded. The King's inhibitions were indeed lowered, but his morality remained intact and the industrialist left with nothing more than a collection of lusting Lords and Ladies.

Logan had helped the King back to his rooms, though neither of them was in much shape to walk. It had been a laugh to drag each other up the stairs and lean against one another for support. When they made it back both of them had fallen gracelessly onto a sofa in the King's chambers, laughing about the small things that they so rarely talked about. They were brothers again. And Logan hadn't minded at all when his brother's intoxicated body slumped onto his chest, instead smiling down at the younger man and removing the heavy crown. Both of them had stared at the article for a moment, silent as the light played off of the golden symbol.

"Do you miss it?" The King's voice had been astoundingly clear. Logan borrowed a minute to think by twisting the crown in his hands, inspecting it carefully as thoughts placed themselves in order.

"Not for a minute dear brother. It was never mine to wear. I was never a man fit to wear it. Father's legacy was always for you. I'd told him so a number of times once you were born. I understood it then and I still know it now. You, my beloved brother, are the only man that deserves the honor of serving Albion as her King," Logan voiced gently, slipping the crown onto a side table as gently as he could. His eyes had remained fixed on his brother's face, which was slightly flushed from drinking, or perhaps embarrassment. And he hadn't budged with the King's fingers brushed across his cheeks.

"Logan…I don't tell you enough how much I love you. For all you went through I should remind you every day just how much you mean to me. What you did for me, for Albion…" the King's voice was beginning to slur once again and Logan saw determination in his brother's eyes. The young Prince had never been able to stop until he had finally said what he needed to say. And the King was no different. When words failed him, he settled for actions.

The kiss, chaste though it had been, had stirred Logan's heart to hammering. He had moved his lips against those of his brother, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he drunkenly indulged in a pleasure that he never expected to experience. Some part of him had been craving the other man since the 16th birthday party in which the Logan had introduced his brother to the people properly as the Prince. But he was a decent man and had kept such incestuous longings to himself for propriety if nothing else.

However, he hadn't fought when the kisses grew stronger, more passionate. And he certainly didn't protest when, appearing slightly less intoxicated than before, his brother the King had dragged him to bed. He had allowed all of it, knowing that it could dissolve into pain and suffering when the morning finally arrived. They were brothers, not meant to be lovers, but Logan didn't have it in him to deny what his heart had craved when the King was seeking it so vigorously. When they woke he could always blame it on the liquor…even though he'd rather not have to lie about something like that.

A grin broke over Logan's lips as he recalled the fact that no lie had been needed. In fact the King had been so happy to find Logan in his bed that words didn't have time to leave the former King's lips.

The arms around him tightened around him and Logan turned over, shifting to face his brother at last. He delicately stroked the scars that marked the other man's torso, allowing him to wake on his own time. Things never felt rushed on these mornings, and both of them lounged in semi-sleep for as long as they could, simply enjoying the presence of their partner.

"Mmm g'morning Logan," the King greeted sleepily and leaned in to kiss the older man. Their lips met softly, the same slow, gentle kiss that they had shared every day for the last two years. Logan allowed himself to be taken over by softly insisting lips and gentle roving hands. They normally reserved their bedroom activities for the late night. Not because they were afraid of someone finding out, no, everyone knew that the King kept his brother as a lover, and for the most part they accepted it as an oddity. They kept it for the night time because during the day there was always a risk of a servant walking in on them, or on one occasion, Reaver.

The industrialist had all but begged to join them and it had been a gloriously naked King that had shown Reaver out.

Logan clutched softly at his brother's scarred back, allowing his fingers to ghost the marks of a struggle that had been hard won. Their lips hardly separated for any reason other than air or soft professions of love. And when they had finished, and the King lie softly on Logan's chest, their limbs tangled, sweat still clinging to their skin from exertion, Logan felt peace surround them.

"Good morning to you too my Brother King," Logan's voice was soft and he kissed the King's forehead lightly. "I love you," he added in a whisper, knowing that his brother loved to hear those words. The smile sparking the spent King's face with energy to carry on for the day was all the affirmation that Logan ever needed.

"And I love you, my dearest Logan," the King whispered softly.

(A/N: Done…and man do I love fluffiness. I don't usually cheer quite so loudly for incest…but these two are just meant for each other. So I ask that you don't flame because you didn't have to read it and I should be able to write whatever I want. Critique is appreciated though, and I will take that any day.)


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